Page 13 of Man Seeking Woman

"I'm sorry, but I'm at work, and I'm in the middle of finalizing next weeks orders."

"Well, listen to you,Mr. I'm too good to talk to his own mother."

Hanging my head, I ran my palm across my jaw. "Did you need something?"

"Is it a crime to call my only child and see how he's doing? I mean it's not like you make time for your mother anymore. I hardly even know what you have going on in your life."

"You're being dramatic."

"Am I, August? Am I really?"

"Look, as much as I love our little chats, I have to get this done because I have dinner plans tonight."

"Dinner plans?" she asked, her voice low and curious. "Girl or guy?"

"Ma, I'm not having this conversation again."

"August, it's an innocent question. You know it's fine either way, I won't judge you. Some of my favorite hair stylists are gay. And let me tell you, those men create magic."

"It's a girl, Mom."

"Do I know her? Is it Michelle Rivers? You know how much I love her, her mother and I still—"

"Good talk," I said, rolling my eyes and not letting her finish. "Mom, but really, I need to get back to work."

"Where did I go wrong with you? You know Michelle tells her mother everything, there's no secrets between them."

"And that's good for them, but I'm thirty-four years old, I don't need to tell you everything anymore."

"You really like cutting my heart out of my chest, don't you? You know losing your father was hard enough on me. I don't ask for much, August, but you could be a little nicer to your own mother."

Here we go again. . .

The poor me card had been played out for years. If she didn't use it for every little thing in her life, I'd probably feel bad for her and have more compassion. But this wasn't new, it was how she got her way.

The sad part was it worked her whole life on everyone else, I just wasn't that person, and I knew it bothered her. She couldn't get to me with her grief striken pleas, no matter how many times she tried.

And as much as I knew it hurt her when my father died, she acted as if they had still been married when he passed. The truth was they had been divorced for over a decade, and until his death, all she would do was criticize every little detail of his life.

He had too many girlfriends, too many cars, too many Armani suits, too much this, and too much that. It was an endless game for her of how much she could shame him in his choices, and make herself look like a saint.

Suddenly, he was gone and now she talks about him like he was a damn angel and had never done anything wrong to her or our family.

"Alright, good talk, I'll call you later." Quickly, I hung up the phone, not giving her time to say anything else.

She was a tough woman to get along with, an even tougher woman to live with, and the worst person to be required to love.

Don't get me wrong, I loved her because she was my mother, but it was hard as fuck to balance the natural love you have for the woman who gave birth to you, and the person they actually were.

Self-centered.

Materialistic.

Cold-hearted.

And, full of drama.

Spell that out and you get Fran Burke, my mother.